Piece of Paradise
by Irvine Cypher
Summary: Bruce didn't die at the end of Arkham Knight. He spent the rest of his days living quietly somewhere on a tropical island, enjoying the beach and the sun.


I didn't like Arkham Knight. I enjoyed it, but I didn't like it. It was a disaster, and a complete piece of shit on PC.

* * *

 **Rating: General Audiences**  
 **Warning: Mild spoilers for Arkham Knight**  
 **Category: M/M**  
 **Fandoms: Batman: Arkham KnightBatman: Arkham (Video Games)Batman: Arkham - All Media TypesBatman - All Media Types**  
 **Relationship: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne**  
 **Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth**  
 **Additional Tags: Fix-It of Sorts, Fix-It**  
 **Language: English**

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The sun shone into the room.

The rays gently roached Bruce's cheeks, and warmth and brightness made him stir. He opened an eye and groaned, thinking of getting up and angrily shutting the curtains, but the sight of the glowing red numbers on the clock that rested on his nightstand made him decide to haul himself out of bed.

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and raised his arms to stretch, and stood up to get the blood flowing properly to his extremities. He reached for the curtains and drew them further open, letting more of the sunlight in. He slid open the French doors to the terrace, and bathed in the morning sunlight, and let the cool sea breeze ruffle his hair.

It was seven in the morning, and he'd had a fitful night's rest. The days of living on three hours of sleep a day were long gone. Now, he slept at ten, and woke up at sunrise, and sometimes he watched the sun break from the horizon while listening to the waves quietly touch the shore, with a mug of steaming coffee in hand.

Instead of paperwork at Wayne Industries, he read novels and non-fiction books. Instead of working on cases and looking through horrific pictures of murder scenes, he watched TV, and tried to catch up on movies and shows he missed, which were a lot. Instead of working with Mr. Fox on improving their uniform, making it more resistant to wear and tear, and trying to keep them safer in it, he learned how to sew. Instead of having juices as a diet, he joined Alfred in the kitchen and learned how to cook and bake. Instead of doing a grueling workout to keep himself on top of his game, he worked out to burn the food he ate because he ate anything he wanted. Instead of keeping up appearances, going to events, and partying to keep Brucie in the spotlight, he spent his time at the beach, swimming and diving into the depths, having drinks on the shore, and all around just enjoying himself.

It wasn't something Bruce ever thought he would have. A proper retirement. Though he was forced into it given the events following his unmasking by Scarecrow, at least he wasn't forced out of it by a heart attack due to old age. (1) Yet there he was, living in a beach house on a tropical island he owned under a different name, and was greeted by clear waters, white sand, and a cool breeze every morning he was given the gift of waking up.

"You're awake,"

A mug of coffee was placed on the surface of the railing in front of him.

"Hard not to get up when the sun punches you in the face every morning," Bruce gratefully took the mug, and blew into the mug's mouth before taking a sip.

"Uh-huh,"

"Watch your tone," said Bruce lightly, and carefully put the mug back down on the railing so it wouldn't spill on him.

Bruce felt arms wrap around his waist, and lips press onto his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you,"

"Clark," Bruce sighed. "You know I would've kicked your ass harder than Jason did mine if you swooped down and made me look like a damsel in distress. I told you to back off, and you did,"

"I know," Bruce felt those lips frown against his skin. "But still I could've just stabbed Crane with his own medicine, and Tim wouldn't have had to be shot, and you could've been standing as one of his best men,"

"I've heard you apologize a million times, Clark. There is no need to be," Bruce turned around and pulled Clark's face down for a kiss.

"I know," Clark said again when they parted. "I just. I know you miss it. You miss being out on the field, running on rooftops, gliding above buildings, getting that satisfying beat down when you find a criminal deserving of a punch to the face—I just can't accept not helping you keep your vow—"

"Hey," Bruce put a finger up to silence Clark. "What matters is that the kids are safe. I'm sure Azrael is doing a fine job of scaring the crap out of Gotham's criminals,"

"And I know," Clark started. "That you miss the kids,"

Bruce broke eye contact with him. He looked at the horizon instead, at the clouds, and at the blue sea. "How are they?"

"Tim is pursuing a degree in engineering, with a minor in business, I think, for when he accepts the position of chairman, and didn't want to change the company's name despite the board's insistence. Barbara's a lawyer, and still brokers information to whoever needs it. To Dick, mostly,"

Bruce smiled. At least Tim and Barbara were living normal lives. Somewhat a normal life, given Barbara still did some jobs at night. "I'm glad they're okay,"

Three knocks on the bedroom door. "Sirs, breakfast is served on the rooftop,"

"Thank you, Alfred," said Clark, and cheerfully lifted Bruce off the terrace, and gently landed on the rooftop veranda.

"So," Bruce sat down opposite Clark at the table. "What do you have in mind for today?"

"Hmmm," Clark said thoughtfully as he served himself some scrambled eggs. "How about we do something nice?"

Bruce snorted as he bit into a strip of bacon. "Go out and buy lube first, Boy Scout,"

"Bruce!"

And instead of building more walls, he tore it down, and let himself have the time of his life, with the love of his life, on their own little island, their piece of paradise.

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(1) This is why Bruce retired from Batman in Batman Beyond. He had a heart attack in the field.

Notes: Superman exists in this universe, according to goon dialogue.


End file.
